Moonlight Sonata
by Rabid Chimera
Summary: Pride was a sin, just as Greed. Dante only cared for him, so much. Why couldn't he have just listened? Why was he so selfish? Soon, he would know only darkness. Was he deserving of his fate?


**A/N: **Hey, people! It's been awhile, no? :)

Dear God, I'm so evil... ._. I really don't know where this idea came from. Maybe it's because I've been kind of depressed lately. I had to do something to express myself and this just got in my head. Like I've said before, I'm a masochist(apparently) because I get some sort of sick kick out of crying over stuff like this. lol I do think we all need to cry once in awhile, though. I'm going to warn you that this is not a happy fic. Please read the warnings before going on. I named it Moonlight Sonata simply because I was listening to Moonlight Sonata by Ludwig van Beethoven the entire time I wrote this. It intensifies the ethereal kind of powerful, dark mood I was trying to create, so you could always listen to it while reading to see if it makes you cry more. lol Even if it is sad, I think I did a good job writing this and I hope you can enjoy the writing aspect of it. I promise my next update will be much more uplifting and happy, but I hope you'll bear with me and leave me some reviews. Even if this is rather short and just came to me, I still worked hard to write it. I want to know if you all liked anything about it at all, so please leave me some reviews. That makes this writing stuff worth it, to know that people actually like my style and that I don't completely suck. lol

Well, anyway, (un)happy reading and **_please review_**!

**Warnings: **Language, Dante/Nero relationship, Character Death, Possibly OOC

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><p><strong>Moonlight Sonata<strong>

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><p>Such a brisk, cold night, frost encasing the trees, the grass as stiff as glass and just as easy to break. The land was barren, desolate, a frozen wasteland of snow and ice. The eerie light of the moon seeped into the darkness of the towering, stone monstrosity, filling its inner sanctum with, but a fleeting, false glimmer of hope. All was quiet and peaceful, listless, dead. The only sounds to be heard were breathing, both the treacherous atmosphere whirring its wind around and the wheezing, hoarse pants of the body splayed out on the floor. He could feel the stone beneath him, sticking to him, burning him as if it was draining the very life out of him, sucking the beat from his heart. Sanguine spread out farther and farther with each passing second beneath him, tainting the pale, untouched gray of the marble. His life, his blood, once so important to him; he could only gaze upon it with hazy, distant eyes as it grew colder than ever, as cold as everything else around him, and became, but a worthless color upon the stone.<p>

To think, a few hours ago, he had been sitting up, talking, smiling, comfortable and content. The phone rang and he plucked it up with the utmost ease, putting it to his ear and listening to every word of the customer on the other end. He took mental notes on what the man said, gave the occasional 'mhm' or 'yeah'. His partner, lounged back in his chair, listened patiently and curiously behind him. He told him about the job and what the man wanted done and how much he was willing to pay. Dante was thrilled to get such an amount of money on what he called an easy job. He was ready to get up and go then, but Dante wasn't. He never was. He wanted to waste time like he always did and take a nap.

But he didn't want to wait.

He told Dante he was acting lazy and stupid and that he must not have cared much about the money. He said a lot of things to him. Dante got slightly irritated, though he hardly showed it. He just brushed him off and headed up the stairs for his nap, but made the effort to utter a few words before he did; words that were so insignificant and ignorant to him, but so secretly important to Dante. Deep down, they weren't just meaningless words. They were spoken for a grave, serious purpose out of a fear–the only fear Dante had.

_"Don't run off without me, Nero. We'll go in a few hours, so just hang around."_

Nero had nodded to please him, saying 'yeah' and 'whatever' to brush him off.

He was such a liar... But Dante trusted him.

He smiled at him before heading up the stairs to nap. He pretended for that small amount of time that he was going to sit down, stay put, wait, but he had no intentions of listening in the first place. Nero had something to prove, not out of heart, but out of mind; a mind he now realized had been so hopelessly foolish and blind. As soon as he was sure Dante was asleep, he ran off without a word or a second thought, off to Fortuna Castle to do what the customer asked of him; but, more importantly, to prove that he was strong enough to be on his own. To prove something to Dante. Dante, the man who had been impressed with him from the moment they met and still couldn't find anyone in the world to parallel what he saw in the younger man. That spirit, that fire, that unyielding determination, that power, that mind–Dante was so captivated, so fascinated, so enchanted with Nero, all of him. And, yet, that couldn't be enough for him because he was so selfish.

What would Dante think of him now?

He tried to get up, to at least roll over onto one side. He managed it after exerting a huge amount of strength, but he didn't think he had what it would take to get his waning body off the floor. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe. He sputtered and coughed, blood spewing out like a ruddy mist from his lips. He didn't want to move, but he had to. Nero had made a promise, one that he had to keep.

_"I don't want you to go, Nero. I'm gonna-... Shit... I'm gonna fucking miss you..." _He was leaving for a few days to visit home, to check up Kyrie.

_"I'm only gonna be gone for a week." _He laughed and smiled fondly at Dante's selfish impatience, liking the behavior more than he could ever hate it.

_"What if something happens?" _He took Dante's cheek in a hand, feeling that rough stubble he loved so much, too much.

_"I'll be fine, Dante. Don't worry so much. I love you and I promise I'll be here, if not here, somewhere to tell you that every day." _He place a loving kiss on Dante's lips, smiling warmly at him even as tears welled up in his eyes at the pleading look in Dante's bright, blue depths that he hated to ignore.

As he lay there so limply, so pathetically weak, gazing through blurring eyes, Nero could only think of everything he would give up just to live through that moment again. Just to go back in time and keep himself from leaving those few hours ago. As much as he hated it, as sick as it made him, he knew he couldn't keep his promise. He had failed. Failed the job and failed Dante. He could only think of Dante's face when he finally found him. Could only cry and sob on the ground like a worthless damsel as he thought of Dante cradling him, crying over him, cursing his pride to the deepest circle of Hell and willing to give his own blood, every last drop, just for him to live. Because that's who Dante was. He wasn't selfish. He would go to the end of the world to please Nero.

And that's what he should have done for Dante.

He had thought that Dante told him to wait because he didn't think he could handle the job himself, that he was weak. But, oh, how stupid he had been to think that. Why couldn't he have just listened? Why couldn't he have realized why Dante said that to him? They were just words and yet there was something so serious behind their reasoning. Dante didn't think Nero was weak, far from it, but the older man couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to him. He had cheated death countless times, lived to see the death of his mother and brother, the only family he had left, and even that hadn't done him in. He was brave, courageous, and unyielding, but even he had a fear, one fear.

Losing Nero...

Nero couldn't stand knowing that he would be making Dante's fear come true. He wasn't being conceited. Dante had told him before that he didn't know what he would do without him and he knew that Dante feared losing him because he knew Dante better than anyone else.

He was even weaker than Dante because he had two fears: Dante dying and dying himself. Nero didn't want to die and he was filled so much guilt and fear and longing as he laid upon the cold floor while the sight slowly faded to darkness from his deep, blue eyes.

He didn't want to die.

He wanted to be home with Dante right now. He wanted to talk to him and joke with him and tease him like he always did. He wanted to smile at him and he wanted to see that beautiful smile of Dante's again. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to hold him close and be held close. He wanted to talk about his day and hear Dante talk about his. He wanted to console him, ease the pains of each day away. He wanted to be told how important he was. He wanted to hear how much he was loved and he wanted to tell Dante how there was no one he would rather be with. He wanted him to know how much he loved him. He wanted him to know that he would do anything for him and hear how Dante would always be there to protect him and do anything for him as well. He wanted to touch and kiss and feel, passion and fire. He wanted to indulge in that body and mind that he loved so much, wanted to see the pleasure on Dante's face as he indulged in his own body. He wanted to be held and to cuddle close, to be told again and again how much he was loved and confess his own affections as he had so many times before. He wanted to drift off into a warm, peaceful darkness, filled with dreams that had already come true in that man's arms. He wanted another chance, but God was done with giving him chances.

Now, he was going to die, cold and alone, and it was no one's fault, but his own.

_"I love you, Nero. I always will. You know that..."_

He did. He knew that, knew it wasn't just a lie, it wasn't just words. He knew it was true because he trusted Dante and he felt the same way about him. He knew what it felt like and could see that same feeling running deep in Dante's eyes as he could feel in his own body. There was nothing set in stone to say it and no one could ever say it for him, but he knew it was there.

He felt so pathetic and miserable, dying in the same castle he had lived to bring down all those years ago. He could only weep and cry and wonder why he betrayed, deceived Dante. The thing about death is, no matter how much someone says they don't fear it, they don't truly fear it until that final moment when they know they're losing everything they've ever had, but then it's too late. His eyes were open, but he could only see dead, cold, terrifying blackness. He couldn't feel his skin anymore. He couldn't taste the air and he couldn't smell his own death. He could only hear his own pitiful breaths, but even that was fading.

He had never wanted to live more in his life than in that moment.

He was scared, but the only thing he could really focus on was Dante. He no longer had the energy to think about anything else. His mind, his individuality, his identity–that was fading too. It was getting so hard to breathe, he just wanted to give up.

But he couldn't.

There was this small, stupid glimmer of hope that Dante would show up and save him. And that kept him going because that was all he had to live for. If he had the breath to spare, he would have laughed in absolute hatred and scorn for himself. To think, all of this started with a selfish, stupid decision. And, so shamefully, what had done him in was the sharp, frigid, blade-like shard of a Frost's icicle, straight through his lung and piercing part of his heart. It would never have been a problem before. Frosts were nothing to him, they were weak, impish devils. But he let his guard down, he was too cocky; and the reason was that, all the times before, Dante had been with him, watching his back, protecting him. He was too careless and, without that, he was vulnerable. What would Credo think of him, being done in by such a putrid, futile beast? He would be so ashamed.

Perhaps, he had failed him too. Maybe he would go join him in the afterlife. Then again, maybe not, for what came after death, but a vast, empty space of knowledge that the human mind was missing? He was part-demon, but his mind was human. Just as all humans, he was curious, he speculated, but he never had a hope of truly knowing. All he had was this vision of life after death to console him, but even that was probably a lie.

He missed Dante so much. Even if he couldn't wait for him or miss him anymore after he took that last breath, he would miss him and love him with everything until he could no longer. He was so selfish, but he owed that to Dante.

"I'm... so s-s-orry..." He could hear the weakness of his voice. It was foreign, it sounded nothing like him. It was all a part of the brutal, hate-filled world around him. The draining cold, the hard, inconsiderate, uncaring floor, the wind that howled and whistled in laughter–that was all he knew now. That was what would see him die.

Faintly, in the background, he could hear a creaking. It sounded like a door, but maybe he was just hallucinating.

"...Nero?"

Someone said his name.

"Nero!"

He could hear harsh, hasty footsteps coming toward him. Was that Dante? Maybe he had come to save him.

But was it too late?

He was scooped up into strong arms, but he couldn't feel it. He could feel nothing, but the unwelcoming cold of the end slowly engulfing him.

"N-Nero? …Say something!" It was Dante. He couldn't feel it, but he knew that those unending tears had to be gushing from his eyes now. He could hear himself sob loudly.

"Nero? …Nero?" Dante was calling for him, a tone of pleading in his voice, but he wouldn't hear it for long. Death was taking that last attachment to the Earth and the conscious world away from him. His hearing was fading out. He was dying, it was over. He knew Dante had to be crying even if he was denying to himself that his love was dying in his arms. And, even so, Nero smiled. He had absolutely nothing else going for him, but hearing Dante's voice that last time, no matter how much more it made him want him and hate what was happening, he wouldn't have denied that last moment if he had the chance. He knew it was hurting Dante, knew that it had to be so incredibly painful for him. If he had the energy, he knew he would be hurting to, even if it was selfish because he had the constant thought of what he was losing. He wanted to tell Dante that he was sorry, but there was something he had to say that was so much more important than that. He only had the energy to say that one last thing and he was fading out fast.

"I... love you..."

_Dante..._

Dante was sobbing, he was crying, he was hurting, he was begging Nero not to go.

But Nero didn't know. All he knew was that darkness that finally swallowed him whole...

A darkness even the moonlight couldn't touch.

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><p><strong>AN: **Well, did you enjoy it? Did you hate it? I think that's what you should be feeling. xD Poor Nero. It makes me so sad to think about him like this, but it does make me feel better to pour my feelings out. If it consoles you, you could always imagine that Dante saves Nero with a Gold Orb or something. I imagine that sometimes when I read fics like this. lol

Well, until next time! Sorry if I made you cry too much!

–_xoxo _**_LM_**


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